She worea black sleeveless t-shirt and black, skin tight jeans. Her brown hairwas cut short, into what she hated to refer to as a pixie cut. In fronto... her was a bottle of beer."What's up Esme? Haven't seen you in here for a while," the bartendersaid. He had to lean across the bar to be heard. His plaid shirtsleeves rode up his arms, exposing two tattoos, a mermaid on the rightand a frog on the left. Esme had meant to ask him about the frog."Busy Max, and out of cash." She shrugged and leaned. But as soon as she entered, she felt a difference. No one came up to her for a hug and a kiss. No one cried out her name in welcome, waving and running to share the latest gossip. They stood with their backs to her at one corner of the great room. Something must be going on. She pushed her slight body through the throng.Something was going on, something worthwhile.The woman in black was like no one she'd ever seen. She looked — forbidding. Her chalk white skin was in harsh contrast with the. More

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